


Call On Me, Brother

by orphan_account



Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-27
Updated: 2012-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:32:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>By Cinda Gillilan</p>
<p>Originally published in The Pilot's Prayer 2</p>
    </blockquote>





	Call On Me, Brother

**Author's Note:**

> By Cinda Gillilan
> 
> Originally published in The Pilot's Prayer 2

Call On Me, Brother   
  


By Cinda Gillilan   
  


Originally published in The Pilot's Prayer 2   
  


Nick lay under the belly of the _Mimi_ , staring up at a large gaping hole -- a memento of their last assignment and the aerial dog fight he had engaged in. He sighed and patted the helicopter's pink underside. "Well ol' girl, it looks like we're grounded." 

Reaching for one of the numerous tools that lay scattered beneath the huge craft, Nick stopped short at the sound of an approaching car. _Hope that's Cody and Murray with some lunch_ , he thought as he checked his watch. _It's about time. No wonder I'm starving_. 

Rolling out from under the helicopter, Nick climbed to his feet and watched a strange car park near the pad. He brushed what dirt he could off his grease-stained jeans and t-shirt, then ran a hand through his dark hair. Two men emerged from the car wearing friendly smiles and clothes that labeled them "tourists" in King Harbor. 

They approached Nick openly, one of the two men extending his hand and saying, "Hi, I'm John Bower, and this is my partner in crime, Tom Hendrick." 

"Nick Ryder," the detective responded as the man pumped his hand. 

"We understand you fly excursions over to Catalina?" John questioned as he looked dubiously at the comic pink craft brooding over the assemblage of tools and parts. 

"Yeah, well, I usually do," Nick admitted somewhat sheepishly. Jerking a thumb over his shoulder, he added, "But, uh, right now I'm grounded." 

The gazes of the two men followed his thumb to the hole. 

"You might want to try Skip Peters, he's just down the pier, and he's usually available on short notice," Nick offered. 

"I see, well, I guess we'll try Peters, then. Thanks again for your time," John concluded, extending his hand for the second time. 

Nick reached and took it, realizing the mistake too late. John snapped his wrist over into a locked position, drawing a grunt of pain from the detective. The second man quickly withdrew a small dart gun from a shoulder holster his jacket hid and fired. Feeling the sting as the dart entered his thigh, Nick tried to break free of the wrist lock. He felt himself stiffen, the helipad dissolving into a thick, cold grey fog.   
  
  
  


"Hey, Murray, you ready?" Cody called down from the main salon of the _Riptide_. "It's almost two." 

"Just a minute, I've almost caught this bug!" came the excited response. 

"Bug?" Cody repeated questioningly to himself, then shook his head. 

A burst of excited giggling drifted up from the forward staterooms, followed closely by the thin detective, obviously pleased with himself. 

"Bugs?" Cody questioned him. 

"In the computer. He was a real quick one, smart too, but I caught him, and **pow**! I squashed him," Murray twittered, swinging a loosely clenched fist, his thumb tucked safely inside. Pushing his glasses back up he added, "Metaphorically, of course." 

"Of course," Cody agreed, steering Murray to the door with a hand on his back. "Come on, Nick's going to think we forgot about him."   
  
  
  


"Hey, Nick!" Cody called as he walked around the _Mimi_ , stepping over the tools and parts that were still scattered about. _Something's wrong_ , he thought to himself. _Nick would never leave this stuff out here like this. Where the hell is he?_

"Maybe Nick had to go pick up a part, or something," Murray volunteered as if he had heard Cody's unspoken question. 

"Maybe," was the blond's quiet, unconvinced reply. Cody circled the helicopter again, looking for something to stop the alarm that was ringing deep in his mind.   
  
  
  


The two detectives sat in the Jimmy until it was nearly dark, Cody's mood deteriorating steadily with the light. 

"Damn well better not be at Straightaway's, having a beer and talking to the crew of the _Contessa_ ," Cody mumbled as he shivered in the cool evening air. He reached for his jacket and pulled it on. "I hate winter," he mumbled, trying not to think about what might have kept Nick away for nearly three hours. 

"It's really not like Nick to just disappear like this," Murray added needlessly. "I'm sure he wouldn't have gone to Straightaway's without us." 

Cody grunted in reply. _You're in trouble, Nick. I can feel it. And I can't do anything just sitting here_. He sighed. "Come on, let's go back to the _Riptide_ and get to work."   
  
  
  


Blackness. 

Nick tried to open his eyes, then realized that a blindfold precluded the possibility. Awareness filtered in slowly: the ropes cutting into his wrists and ankles, the cement floor, ice-cold beneath his bare skin. 

Testing the ropes, Nick found them expertly tied. He listened, but only heard the sound of his own breathing. 

_Great. Cody and Murray are gonna go nuts wondering where the hell I am. Wonder how long I've been out? I hope they figure this out . . . soon_. 

The cry of rusted old hinges cut through Nick's thoughts as a door opened somewhere nearby. Two pairs of footsteps followed, entering the room. A soft chuckle filled the air, echoing with a hollow accent. "I see our guest is quite comfortable," came a man's voice. 

"Better than a Holiday Inn," Nick replied sarcastically. 

"Ah, spirit," the man countered. "At least for now, but for how long, Mister Ryder? How long?" 

Hands roughly rolled Nick onto his back, then the familiar sting of an injection bit into his upper arm. 

"Hey," Nick began to protest as the drug entered his system, but he was suddenly disconnected from conscious control of his body and thoughts. He sank into a twisted, burning darkness.   
  
  
  


The computer screen flashed, beeped and went blank. 

Murray slumped back into his chair and scowled at the machine. "I'm sorry, Cody," he said to the man sitting next to him, still staring at the blank screen. 

"At least we know that he's not in any of the hospitals. . ." Cody said softly, then rubbed his eyes, which were red and sore from staring at the computer screen all night. He added in a whisper, ". . . Or the morgue." 

"Or in jail," Murray added, prompting a small smile from Cody. "Speaking of which, shouldn't Lieutenant Quinlan have been here by now?" 

"He said he'd come out after his shift's over," Cody explained. "He didn't sound like he was looking forward to it." 

Murray opened his mouth to comment, but the sound of boat shoes hitting the deck of the _Riptide_ stopped him. "Nick?" he asked Cody, but the blond was already half-way out the door. 

"Ahoy the _Riptide_ ," came Dooley's familiar voice. 

By the time Cody reached the main salon, the teenager was seated comfortably at the table, helping himself to the cookies that had sat there since the day before. 

"Hi ya, guys," he said as the two detectives joined him at the table. "I thought I'd stop by and see how Nick was doing." 

"How Nick was doing?" Cody echoed, confused. 

"Yeah, like, I heard about the accident, so I thought I'd stop. He's okay, right?" 

"What accident?" probed Cody. 

Dooley gave the blond an equally confused look. "Maybe I've got the wrong planet," he said, leaning forward to get up. 

"Wait a damned minute--" Cody started. 

"Dooley," Murray interrupted, "Nick's sort of missing, so anything that you can tell us might be very important." 

"Oh, wow, missing, huh?" Dooley said, sitting back. "Well, you guys know Wing?" 

"The old Vietnamese man who runs the bait shop," Cody confirmed. 

"Yeah, well, I was talkin' to him, and like, he saw these two guys helpin' Nick," Dooley explained, and noting their blank expressions, added, "after the accident, you know?" 

"What accident? What men?" Cody pressed, frustration and confusion adding an edge to his voice. 

Sensing the seriousness, Dooley let the playful beach-bum front slip away as he explained, "Wing said he saw two guys he didn't know putting Nick in a car. He asked them if he could help, since he knew Nick, and they said no. One of them told him that Nick had hit his head, or something, and that they were taking him to the hospital." 

Before they could question him further, Dooley spotted Quinlan approaching. "Uh, oh," he drawled. "You guys mind if I borrow a closet or something?" 

"Is Quinlan after you?" Cody asked, momentarily amused at the teen's obvious trepidation. 

"Yeah. I was watching Mrs. Hoffstedder's poodle, and I took it surfing," the dark-headed youth explained. "I sorta lost it." 

Cody and Murray exchanged "I had to ask" looks, and Cody waved Dooley below. "Hang out down below until Quinlan's gone. I've still got a few things I want to ask you." 

"Just don't touch the hardware," Murray told him as Dooley disappeared down the stairs. 

"Thanks, you guys," he called out as he went. "I owe you one." 

Cody and Murray met Quinlan on the deck. 

"If this is some hairbrained scheme--" the police lieutenant began as he approached the pair. 

Cody cut him off with a glare and a half-growled, "This is serious, Lieutenant." 

"I see," Quinlan said, noting the grave looks and anxious air that clung to the two detectives like cheap cologne. 

"See, it's like this, Lieutenant," Murray began, his voice rising in pitch and speed with each word. "Nick's missing, and there were these two strange men who put him into a car to take him to a hospital, but there's no one in any of the local hospitals that fits Nick's description, and--" 

"Whoa, can it, Bozinsky," Quinlan interrupted. "Now, again, **slowly**. . ."   
  
  
  


Light. 

Hands had rudely jerked the blindfold off Nick's eyes, and he ground them shut against the unaccustomed brightness of the spotlights. The same hands hauled him to his feet, where he stood, unsteady from the drugs. 

A moment later Nick felt the air rush from his lungs as fists pounded violently into his midsection. He dropped to his knees, the hard contact with the cold cement floor sending a wave of pain shooting through his body. Struggling to his feet, Nick tried to fight back, lowering his head and charging, but the bright lights, drugs, and continuing attacks kept him ineffective. Anger and frustration mounted as he went down again and again. 

"What the hell do you want?" he yelled at his tormentors, but a soft laugh was his only reply. 

When he lay on the cold floor, barely conscious, the man's voice he had heard before filtered past the pain and drugs. "This is only the beginning, Mister Ryder. . . . Just the beginning."   
  
  
  


And it was the beginning. The beginning of days that passed in a fog of cold and pain. Nick was kept relatively cooperative by the employment of drugs and an electric stunner. The blindfold remained on unless he was under the spotlights, and the soundproofed room quickly began to wear on his nerves. Nick had experienced some sensory deprivation training before he had left for Vietnam, and now and then he had to remind himself that he was not in those Southeast Asian jungles -- that the pain was right here, right now. 

Slowly, a part of him began to withdraw and all of his efforts were directed at surviving the next session. The island of his hope and sanity began to shrink, and he wondered how close to breaking the next "play period" would carry him. Pain was the one sure thing, it came in many forms; but it came . . . again and again.   
  
  
  


"I'm an artist," came the malevolent snarl. "An artist in pain, but he hasn't broken. He's still fighting. Amazing, but tiresome. I can't return him to Allen until he's broken!" 

At the mention of Cody's name the defenses that Nick had carefully built against the latest "game" crumbled. "Cody?" he whispered hoarsely though clenched teeth. 

A slow, malicious smile spread across the man's face and he whispered excitedly, "Of course! It's beautiful, absolutely beautiful." 

The second man smiled at the fanatical look on his employer's face and touched the hot iron to Nick's nude shoulder and the detective screamed, for the first time.   
  
  
  


Cody paced the deck of the _Riptide_. He could feel the pressure of his barely-held-in-check emotions as they fought for release. 

_Six days. No word . . . no sign. Where the hell are you, Nick? I feel so damned helpless!_

Murray sat on the deckseat, watching as Cody paced and wishing that there was something he could to do or say to help ease the pain his friend was going through. He remembered a time, not so long ago, when it had been Nick who had paced the deck, deep in self-recrimination over Cody's supposed death. A young girl's voice erased the image from his mind and he rose, joining Cody at the side of the boat. 

"Hi, is one of you guys Cody Allen?" the girl asked as she stood on the pier, dressed in the uniform of a local delivery service. 

"I'm Cody Allen," the detective responded without the usual enthusiasm he would shower on such a pretty young woman. 

"I have a package for you, but you'll have to sign for it," she said, holding up a small box wrapped in brown paper. 

Cody joined her on the pier and signed for the box, which she handed over with a winning smile. Fishing a dollar from his pocket he handed it to her. 

"Thanks," she responded, "have a nice day." 

Cody didn't even bother to smile at the comment as he turned and climbed back on board the _Riptide_. Murray moved closer and peered over his shoulder as the detective examined the package. It was addressed to "Mr. Cody Allen," on a typed label. There was no return address included, but the delivery slip revealed King Harbor as the place of origin. 

Cody frowned but unwrapped the package. There was a small white box inside. 

Murray watched with avid curiosity as Cody lifted the box lid. Cody paled and his hands began to tremble. In the box lay a ziplock baggie inside of which was the wallet that he'd bought Nick two Christmases ago. Holding his breath, Cody gingerly lifted the baggie out of the box, laying the latter on the deckseat. Holding the baggie by one corner, he studied the blue nylon wallet as if he expected it to speak. A thin film of moisture covered the inside of the baggie. 

"Hand me a pen," Cody said, his voice a scratchy whisper. Murray removed one from the ever-present supply that sat in his shirt pocket and handed it over. 

Using the point, Cody carefully opened the plastic bag. The malodorous smell of picante wafted out. 

Cody's ears began to roar and bright spots exploded behind his eyes. The baggie slipped from suddenly numb fingers, the contents spilling out onto the deck; the wallet and a blood-stained razor. 

Cody lunged for the side of the boat, just beating the remains of breakfast that raced up his throat. He hung limply over the rail, his stomach contracting until it was empty, and after. 

Murray stood, staring at the razor as it glittered in the morning sun, unable to move to help his friend. 

Scenes of pain and fear swam through Cody's mind, and as he stared into the water below him, he cried.   
  
  
  


The knock came quietly and Harrison Crawford, who had been pacing angrily in the small enclosed office, halted. "Come," he barked at the closed door. 

The door swung open and Crawford was joined by a tall, well-built blond man around thirty-years of age. A crooked smile showed below the man's moustache, and his blue eyes met Crawford's dark ones. 

"You'll do," Crawford said quietly. "You'll do just perfectly." 

The blond man's smile widened.   
  
  
  


Murray sat across from Cody, watching as the detective stared into his empty coffee cup. He saw the man's muscles, corded with tension, trembling beneath his polo shirt. 

He moved quietly to sit next to his friend, slipping a thin arm around Cody's shoulders and feeling him flinch away slightly. 

Turning tear-filled eyes to Murray, Cody moaned softly, "I know what they're doing to him. . . . I know. Crawford will kill Nick, to get to me, he'll kill him." 

The pent-up emotions of the last week finally overwhelmed Cody, and once the tears began to fall he couldn't call them back. Murray gathered the man into his arms and held him, trying to offer words of encouragement, but finally just holding him while he cried. 

Later, they sat together in front of the computer monitor while Murray hunted for any signs of Crawford after he had made bail following his initial indictment. None surfaced. Murray drove himself on until nearly dawn, checking and double-checking any computer he had access to -- or could find access to. 

Finally, Cody rested a hand on Murray's shoulder, saying, "Come on, let's get some sleep. We're both worthless like this." 

Murray nodded sadly and logged out.   
  
  
  


Grey. 

Nick watched through blurred vision as a man who looked like Cody slowly circled him. It was hard to follow the man's movements through one eye that was half-swollen. His other eye was puffed closed. 

"You like what I've done to you, buddy?" the man asked in Cody's voice. 

The walls seemed to close in on Nick as the man spoke, but he shook his head, unwilling to believe what he thought he saw. "No," he managed to spit out. "I don't believe it. I **won't**." 

What followed became Nick's personal living hell. Unable to accept that Cody could ever hurt him, he could not deny the pain. The situation threatened to overwhelm him, and the island that had been his refuge shrank even further as he lost hope and the desire to live. But some part of him would not surrender and fought back ferociously to survive. It walled itself up deep inside, watching and waiting. 

And the room and "Cody" dissolved into a grey void. 

"He's strong," the blond man said as he stood over Nick's unconscious body. "Really strong. I don't think you're going to break him. You've driven him as far as you can without killing him. I saw a lot of this in 'Nam. Some guys'll die before they break. Weirdest thing you've ever seen, they flip out, flop around like some kinda fish, and die." 

"He **will** break!" Crawford commanded as if he expected Nick to hear and obey. "I am going to leave the broken shell of Cody Allen's best friend on his doorstep, and you're going to see that it's done!" 

"I just don't see how," the blond complained. "We've tried just about everything we can think of. The worse it gets, the farther he withdraws and waits." 

"Increase the drugs," Crawford directed. 

"That might kill him." 

"It might," Crawford acknowledged. "And if it does, well, then I guess I'll lay the broken, **dead** body of Nick Ryder on the _Riptide's_ deck. Not nearly as aesthetic, but terribly profound, don't you think?" 

"You know, we could try dosing him with junk, then take it away," the man suggested. "I also saw guys in 'Nam go nuts in withdrawal." 

"An interesting idea, but a bit too time-consuming for my purposes. I have to be out of the country within two weeks when the Grand Jury reconvenes." 

"I'll do my best," the man said, smiling. "And I am very good." 

"Then show me a broken Nick Ryder."   
  
  
  


Nick held on, reduced to mumbling his name, rank and serial number, but still hanging on. 

"Do you hate me, Nick?" the blond asked as he flipped a switch, sending current into Nick's body at several well-chosen sites. The only answer he received was a strangled scream.   
  
  
  


Nick lay in the back of a limousine, his teeth chattering, his body shaking. Crawford had finally decided that he had driven Nick as far as he could. The time had come to return him to the _Riptide_. 

Nick knew only that he was being moved. He lay, watching and waiting, unable to remember who he was, where he was, or what had happened to him. All he knew was that he was in terrible danger and had to escape -- right now. 

The driver slowed as they approached a red light. 

_Now or never_ , Nick thought as he drew both knees up to his chest. He thrust his feet savagely into the blond man's side, and grabbed for the door handle. 

"Grab him!" Crawford yelled at Cody's double as Nick fumbled, the handle slipping out of his damp grasp. 

The blond man reached for Nick, gasping as the detective kicked him, then managed to open the door. 

Scrambling out onto the street, Nick tried to stand using the car stopped alongside them as support. Managing to pull himself up, he started away in a weaving half-run. 

The blond man exited the car and started to draw his revolver. 

"Stop, you fool!" Crawford hissed. "Let him go. We can't afford the attention." 

"But what if he gets picked up?" 

"Then I suspect that Mister Allen will be getting a very disturbing phone call in the very near future," Crawford said, smiling thinly. "I did **so** want to see the look on Cody's face when he saw Nick, though."   
  
  
  


Nick staggered down the sidewalk, disoriented and confused. People quickly moved to clear a path for him, shooting furtive glances at the battered man. Exhausted, he finally stopped, leaning against the front of a building, eyes closed. 

A hand closed on Nick's shoulder and the detective's eyes flew open. Panicked, he started to bolt, but his body refused and he collapsed at the policeman's feet who stood before him, a questioning look on his face.   
  
  
  


Cody was obsessed. Now that he knew who had Nick, he rose each day before dawn and scoured the city for any sign of Crawford. Murray spent the same time at the computer in an equally hopeless search. 

Each day the haunted look that shadowed Cody's eyes grew deeper, and Murray grew more and more concerned. If Nick died he knew he would have to follow the same precautions that he'd used when Crawford had held Cody. 

"Anything?" came Cody's voice and Murray looked up, startled that he hadn't heard the man enter the stateroom. He shook his head. 

"Me, neither," Cody sighed, disgusted with himself. 

The phone rang and they both jumped. Two worried gazes fastened on the phone. Cody finally answered it on the fifth ring. "Allen?" It was Quinlan. 

"Yeah," was the detective's tired response. 

"You'd better get over to Redondo Community Hospital," Quinlan said, his voice completely serious. "And, Allen?" 

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Cody said in a whisper. 

"Better make it fast."   
  
  
  


"No!" Nick screamed. "No! Stop! Why, Cody? For God's sake, wh--?!" The sentence was cut short by a half-stifled growling scream that twisted out of Nick's tortured body. 

It took several orderlies to hold the dark-haired man down on the stretcher and secure him with restraints. Once he was secured firmly in place the orderlies moved away. Nick appeared to relax slightly, but his body continued to shudder uncontrollably. "Why?" he moaned, over and over, then threw his ample strength against the restraints, fighting until unconsciousness left him still. 

Cody stood outside the emergency room, watching the horrendous spectacle, unable to force himself to walk away. Murray, on the other hand, took a single look at Nick's battered body and listened to one scream before he fled to the blessed quiet of the waiting room. 

Cody knew he should go find the computer whiz. He should be there for the man who'd been his support through all of the waiting, but he just couldn't force his legs to move. He looked down at his fists, which were clenched into tight balls. 

Nick screamed again, and, unable to stand the sound any longer, Cody started for his partner. 

Two pairs of hands caught him. "No, Mister Allen, please," came a soft yet forceful feminine voice wrapped in an Asian accent. 

"Come on, Allen, let's go talk," Quinlan said, holding Cody by the shoulders, blocking his way until he felt him relax. Then, resting a hand lightly on Cody's shoulder, he directed him away from Nick. 

The consoling tone of Quinlan's voice surprised Cody, but he accepted it gratefully, allowing Quinlan and the Oriental woman to lead him down the sterile white corridors of the hospital, past an empty waiting room, and into an office. 

The small, efficient-looking woman walked around to sit at a large teak desk that occupied the center of the room. She nodded, and Quinlan patted Cody on the shoulder, saying, "Hang in there, Allen," and leaving quickly before Cody could respond to the outburst of humanity. 

"I'm Doctor Poe," the woman said, her voice comforting and reassuring. She motioned to a large padded-leather chair. "Please, sit down, Cody." 

He did as she directed. 

Dr. Poe peered intently at the detective, and seeing his discomfort, stood and moved around the desk to lean against it in front of him. 

"How is he?" he asked quietly, his mouth suddenly dry. 

"Not very good right now, I'm afraid," she replied truthfully. "He has been heavily drugged and beaten and tortured. The lieutenant tells me Nick has been missing for the better part of two weeks?" 

The detective nodded, thenn looked up, meeting her black eyes. "What he was saying--" Cody began, but couldn't finish. 

"We will have to wait for the drugs to clear his system before we know anything for sure. Then, we will go from there." 

"What can I do?" Cody asked in a whisper, his gaze shifting to the thick muted teal carpet. 

"Right now," she told him gently, "all we can do is wait." She reached out and tilted Cody's chin up so he looked at her. "We will do all we can, I promise you. The road may appear long and rough, but if we go slow, and have patience, we might get the same Nick Ryder back." 

Cody nodded, tears filling his eyes. Dr. Poe stepped forward, sat down on the arm of the chair, and slipped an arm around his shoulder. "I spoke at great length to Lieutenant Quinlan," she told him. "He cares very much about you and Nick, although I do believe he would face tigers rather than admit it." 

"Our Quinlan?" Cody said softly, a thin smile on his face. 

"He told me that you had an. . ." She paused, looking for the right word. ". . . An encounter with the man who did this to Nick?" She felt Cody shiver in response, but he nodded. "Perhaps we could talk about it? It might help me help Nick." 

Cody looked up at the woman. He hadn't spoken to anyone about what had happened to him, not even to Nick, but now . . . He nodded. "I'd like to talk to someone. . ."   
  
  
  


Three days passed while they waited for the drugs to slowly pass through Nick's system. Cody stayed at the hospital all day, leaving only when Dr. Poe chased him out. He paced the waiting room, having already read all of the old magazines that lay scattered over the various tables. They wouldn't let him into Nick's room, afraid that if the man woke and saw Cody he would "react badly." But Dr. Poe had told him that it was really because they hadn't seen a case like this one. They wanted to see how Nick reacted when he first woke alone, and Cody's presence would ruin the control atmosphere.   
  
  
  


Fear. 

The restraints were padded, but they held Nick firmly to the bed. The soft mattress was a relief to his aching body, but it was strange, foreign. He woke sometime after midnight by his own estimate, and realized immediately that he was in a hospital. 

His thoughts were still a twisted nest of confusion and loneliness. _Cody, I wish you were here, man. I need to see you and Murray. I feel like I'm still in the Twilight Zone. Where are you guys?_

Nick knew the drugs were almost gone from his bloodstream, their absence bringing an unsettling intensity back to the reality he endured. Images crowded in from the edge of his awareness, but he fought them back, unable to face the horror they carried with them. He lay, watching the sun rise past the open curtains, tears rolling down the side of his face, finally releasing some of the emotions he had shut off.   
  
  
  


Cody entered the now too-familiar waiting room and headed for the complementary coffee that set in one corner of a small table. He had just poured himself a cup when he heard Dr. Poe say, "He's awake." 

He turned to face her, a smile spreading across his face. He set the cup down, coffee instantly forgotten. "How is he?" 

"I'm going to go see right now," she said as she headed off down the hall, Cody in step with her. "It appears that he woke sometime last night. The staff left him alone, to give him a chance to get his bearings." She paused, then added, "And to see what he would do."   
  
  
  


The sound of the door opening startled Nick and he tried to lift his hand to wipe away the tears but the restraints effectively held it back. 

Dr. Poe smiled. If he could cry, he was nowhere near as bad as she had first anticipated. 

She walked over to the bedside and smiled down at the dark-haired detective. "Hello, Nick. I am Doctor Amelia Poe." 

Nick nodded, his embarrassment peaking as she took a kleenex from the bedside stand and wiped away his tears. 

Cody watched Dr. Poe and Nick through a large one-way observation window as she released Nick from the restraints, saying, "I don't think we will need these anymore." 

"I must've been really out of it," Nick said quietly, his voice rough. 

"Yes, you were," she agreed as she began to examine him. "But that is over now. You are going to be fine." 

Cody winced when Nick trembled under the doctor's gentle touch.   
  
  
  


Murray joined Cody at the observation window, his face beaming. He grabbed Cody's arm and giggled excitedly. "Isn't this boss? He's awake. That's great, just great. Can we see him?" 

"I don't know, Murray," Cody said, unable to stop the smile that Murray infected him with. He glanced back at Nick, then turned back to the slender detective and said in a serious voice, "I'm scared." 

"Scared?" Murray repeated. "Why, Cody?" 

"I don't know," he said, watching Dr. Poe continue her examination. "I'm-- I'm afraid something's changed between Nick and I . . . And I won't be able to fix it."   
  
  
  


"Sorry," Nick whispered as he jerked away from Dr. Poe's probing. 

She smiled and stopped. Taking his hand in hers she told him, "Don't be. It will take time, but we have it. You are lucky that you are in such good physical condition. You should be ready to go home in five, maybe six days." 

The feel of a gentle touch flooded Nick with the need to be close, to know that something other than pain could come from another's hand. Tears filled his eyes again, but he held them in check. 

"There is someone here who would like to see you; are you feeling up to it?" 

Nick felt a surge of fear and hope pound through his heart. And as she rose and started to the door he whispered, "Yeah, I'm up to it."   
  
  
  


"Murray, I can't go in there, not yet. You go," Cody said. 

"Okay," Murray agreed, not understanding but excited at the prospect of seeing Nick. 

Dr. Poe opened the door. "Fifteen minutes, that's all."   
  
  
  


"Hi, Nick," came Murray's hesitant voice as he entered the room and moved haltingly to the bed. Dr. Poe looked from Murray to Nick, then smiled and exited, leaving them alone. 

Murray made it to the edge of the bed, but seemed afraid to draw any closer. Nick studied his friend's red eyes and watched the man stand, nervously wringing his hands. 

Finally, when Murray seemed ready to stand there forever, Nick patted the edge of the bed and said, "Have a seat. I won't bite, promise." 

"Oh, I know, Nick," Murray said, embarrassed. He sat down, careful not to bounce the bed. Folding his hands in his lap, he looked down at the floor and stammered, "H-How are you?" 

Nick tried to fight back a smile, but he couldn't. "Well, I'll tell you, I've felt better," he whispered clandestinely, "but don't tell the Doc or she'll extend my sentence." 

Murray looked up, relief flooding through him at the sound of the Nick Ryder he knew so well. He smiled. 

Nick extended a hand, patting Murray's shoulder. "Do you think you can find the controls on this bed and raise me up? I'm getting a little tired of staring at the ceiling." 

"Sure," Murray told him, grateful to have something to do. He quickly located the necessary button and had Nick up in a nearly seated position, "How's that?" 

"Great, thanks," Nick responded, watching as the nervousness begin to set in again. "Guess I had you guys pretty worried, huh? Sorry." 

"Oh, it wasn't your fault, Nick," Murray told him emphatically. "But, we were worried, especially Cody. I guess I was sort of numb." 

"Yeah," Nick said softly as he studied the thin man sitting on the bed. "You've done this before, haven't you? You sort of end up in the middle all the time, don't you?" 

Murray looked away quickly, afraid the truth of Nick's statement would show in his eyes, "I-- I don't mind, really." 

Nick watched him. _You're lying. It does hurt to be on the outside looking in, I know. We don't mean to hurt you, and I know we do, but it's just different with Cody and me. We've been through so much together_. . . . "So much," Nick finished in a whisper. _But what happens now?_

"I'm sorry, Nick, I missed that," Murray said, turning back. 

"It's nothing," Nick said, smiling weakly at his friend. 

Murray returned the smile, tears shining behind his glasses. "Hey, you think you could smuggle in a Domino's death disk? I hate hospital food." 

"I can try," Murray said, the anxiousness finally starting to leave. "Maybe we could. . ."   
  
  
  


"He is strong," Dr. Poe said as she looked from Nick and Murray to Cody, who was watching the pair, a concerned look on his face. 

"But he's acting like nothing's happened to him. Is that healthy?" 

"Didn't you do the same thing?" 

"Yes," Cody admitted quietly, "I suppose I did." 

"You should go in next," Dr. Poe told him, catching the fleeting expression of fear that crossed Cody's face. 

"Are you sure? After all that he was saying. . ." He trailed off. 

"Whatever happened, I think he will want to see you. If you do not, I believe it will hurt him more."   
  
  
  


"Well," Murray said reluctantly, "the doctor told me only fifteen minutes." 

"Thanks for coming," Nick said, as unhappy about the computer whiz leaving as Murray himself. 

"I'll come by again tomorrow," the slender man added as he stood. Uncomfortable about how to say what he wanted, Murray opted to just show Nick, and leaning over, gave him a quick hug. 

Nick grimaced slightly at the pressure on his back, but reciprocated the action willingly. 

"It's good to have you back," Murray said softly. 

"It's good to be back," Nick responded, his voice nearly breaking. 

Murray released Nick and left quickly so the tears that finally escaped would not be seen. 

Nick watched him go, understanding and affection showing on his face. Relaxing a little, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He heard the door open, and expecting Dr. Poe, didn't bother to open them. 

"Nick?" came Cody's voice in a soft whisper, testing to see if his friend slept. 

Nick's eyes flew open and he looked up at his best friend and partner. He smiled slightly, but didn't know what to say. 

_Come on, buddy_ , Cody urged silently. _Talk to me, please, Nick_. He reached out to rest a hand on Nick's shoulder. 

Instinct took over for the dark-haired detective and he blocked the hand away, remembering the treatment at the hands of Cody's look-alike. A flash of nearly uncontrollable rage followed, frightening Nick with its intensity. 

Cody took a step back as he saw the brief wave of hatred pass through Nick's eyes. _My God, Nick_ , he thought. _What did they do to you?_

Regret and embarrassment registered instantly on Nick's face. "Cody, I'm sorry, man," he mumbled shrugging weakly. 

"That's okay," Cody told him, but didn't repeat the action. Instead, he took a chair that sat in one corner of the room, moved it closer to the bed, and sat down. 

"Murray was just here," Nick commented idly, unsure what to say. 

"Yeah, I know," Cody said, effectively ending the conversation. 

_Come on, Cody_ , Nick thought. _I blew it, but I need you to be strong for both of us right now, please_.   
  
  
  


Dr. Poe and Murray watched the exchange. It was obvious that both men were very hesitant around one another, neither knowing what, if any, lines had been drawn by the other. And neither seemed willing to take the initiative to find out. 

Dr. Poe frowned. "I guess I will have to rescue them," she told Murray, then headed into the room. 

Her entrance freed the pair from the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them. 

Cody rapidly climbed to his feet. "Oh, sorry, Doctor, let me get out of your way," he told her, quickly heading for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Nick. Rest," he finished as he fled the room. 

Nick watched him go with an expression approaching anguish. 

"You both need time," Dr. Poe said softly. 

"I think seeing me brought back too many memories for him," Nick said in a near whisper. 

"Perhaps, but right now we only have to worry about you. Cody will come around. Now, tell me. . ."   
  
  
  


"I can't believe I'd do something so **stupid** ," Cody ranted while a silent Murray sat watching. 

And Cody continued to pace the deck of the _Riptide_ , lambasting himself until Murray couldn't take any more. "Cody, please!" he said determinedly. 

The tone stopped Cody in mid-stride. 

When the blond turned to look disbelievingly at Murray, the computer whiz continued. "So, you screwed up. So what? Nick is our friend, and he needs our help. We've got to forget about everything else." 

Cody hesitated a moment, then smiled, a little ashamed of himself. "You're exactly right, Murray," he admitted. "I'm the only one who'll understand what he's been through. I blew it, but I'll try not to let my fears get in the way the next time." 

"That's more like it," Murray said, pleased. 

"We'll get him, and us, through this. Just like always."   
  
  
  


"Open up to him, Nick," Dr. Poe told the detective on the day of his release. Seven days in the hospital had left Nick more than ready to leave, as he had reminded Dr. Poe again and again over the past three days. 

Aside from the emotional scars, which they couldn't treat, and some expected muscle strains, Nick was ready for release. And Dr. Poe refused to try and find an excuse to keep him. Home was the best medicine, she decided, and she wanted him there as soon as possible. 

The faster the three men returned to their regular lives the faster they would all heal, emotionally. 

"I'll try," he said. "It's not easy, Cody's sort of, reserved, you know?" 

"Yes, I know, but I have talked to him, and he does want to help. But I think he will need you to make the first move," she concluded as the door burst open and the two detectives charged in, closely followed by two nurses. 

Cody carried a large, steaming pizza box, and Murray an armload of clothes. 

"Doctor?" one of the nurses asked as she stared pointedly at the pizza box. 

"It is all right," Dr. Poe said, moving over to the box and lifting the lid to look inside. "Mister Ryder is leaving, and he will be eating lunch on the way home," she said, tapping the lid for emphasis. 

The nurses smiled as the three assumed chastised looks. Once the nurses left, Dr. Poe lifted the lid again and helped herself to a slice of pizza. The three watched with smiles as she ate it with obvious relish, licking her fingers when she finished. 

"I have forms that need to be signed, and a prescription to be picked up. If one of you will come with me, we will get Nick out of here before the pizza gets cold." 

"I'll go," Murray volunteered, tossing the clothes onto the bed. 

"Follow me," she directed, helping herself to a second slice of pizza on the way out. 

Nick watched them go and shook his head. Reaching down, he threw back the covers and carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Faded bruises showed on his exposed thighs and he moved with a slow deliberation. Grabbing the jeans from the pile, he pulled them on and stood. Socks followed, then he sat back down to rest and pull on his boat shoes. 

"Need any help?" Cody asked as Nick winced when he stood again. 

"No, thanks, I've got it," he said, turning around to take the remaining t-shirt off the bed. Anxiety about returning to the _Riptide_ ate at Nick as he pulled the hospital gown off. His broad back was covered with bruises and thin whip marks in various stages of healing. The same small burn marks that had covered Cody's back and chest stood out on Nick's tan skin. 

Cody swallowed rapidly, then sat down as a distant roar assaulted his ears. _God, that's worse than what they did to me_ , he thought. _Why can't I just talk to you? Why can't I just tell you what I feel? I love you like a brother, Nick, but I can't say that, and I don't know why_. 

Nick wrestled the t-shirt over his head, the nagging feeling that he and Cody had lost the comfortable familiarity they'd had for so long tugging at him. Turning around as he gingerly pulled the shirt down, Nick looked at Cody, finding him seated and very pale. 

_Ah, man, I forgot what my back must look like_ , he thought. _Not to mention my chest_ , he added, looking down at what was still uncovered, only to find that it was in a similar condition. _I really ripped him up. When am I going to stop hurting him? I can't believe I can be so stupid sometimes. Why can't I just ask him to give me a hug? I mean, is it so wrong to want that from your best friend? What am I afraid of?_   
  
  
  


Murray and Dr. Poe were standing at the nurses' station when the partner's left the room. Nick carried the pizza box, Cody following him, a withdrawn look on his face. 

"Please," Dr. Poe said, and motioned to a wheelchair that sat at the station. 

"I'll drive," Murray volunteered. 

Nick swallowed his protests and sat down. 

"Be careful!" Dr. Poe called after them as Murray started off down the hall, half out of control. 

"Murray!"   
  
  
  


The drive back to the _Riptide_ was quiet, the pizza untouched. Murray watched Nick's mood sink lower than Cody's before they reached the boat. But as they boarded Nick's mood lightened and he spent several minutes walking around the deck, basking in the familiar feel of "home." 

Cody made straight for his room, muttering a feeble excuse about a headache as he left. 

"Nick?" Murray said, finding the man leaning against the rail, staring out at the harbor. 

"Yeah, Boz?" he responded. 

"What's wrong with Cody? He was really excited about you coming home earlier." 

Nick turned to face Murray, "I don't know. . . . Maybe it's my fault. I haven't been able to open up with him. . . . Maybe he's just trying to forget, and I keep reminding him of his time with Crawford. I just don't know, Murray. But, I'm afraid I'm gonna lose the best friend I ever had, and I can't seem to do anything to stop it."   
  
  
  


They met Quinlan for dinner that night at Straightaway's, the lieutenant bringing them up-to-date on the search for Crawford. "Let me sum it up for you guys in a word small enough for you to understand," Quinlan told them. "Nil, that's what we got. _Nada_." 

"I thought this was a competent police force," Nick chided. "What's happening? All your detectives getting stale like you, Lieutenant?" 

"Watch it, Ryder," Quinlan threatened ominously, but there was a twinkle in his eye, "or you'll end up back in the hospital." 

Cody was unusually quiet and didn't rise to any of the bait that the lieutenant kept tossing out throughout dinner. Afterwards, the three detectives walked back to the _Riptide_ along Pier 56, enjoying the quiet evening. A small sense of the closeness they usually shared crept back as they moved slowly along, accommodating Nick's still-stiff muscles. 

When it was dark, Nick cleared his throat and said, "It's really good to be home." When neither of his companions responded he continued, his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed to the ground as he walked along. "You know, I never realized how much all this meant to me. How much you guys mean." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "I'm not very good at saying what I feel, but, hell, I don't know. I always thought 'Nam was the ultimate test, you know? If I could make it through that, I could make it through anything." He chuckled softly. "We do some pretty harebrained things sometimes, and, well, I just wanted you guys to know--" 

Gunfire. 

The three men broke apart, each diving for the nearest available cover. 

"Nick!" called Cody, peering around the metal garbage can he crouched behind. 

"Yeah," Nick called back, head raising slightly above a large wooden sign boasting the cheapest deepsea fishing rates on the pier. "Murray?" 

"Over here," came Murray's voice from the doorway of a souvenir shop. "I think someone's trying to kill us, guys." 

Cody bolted across the intervening space to join Nick, two shots following him. He slid in behind the sign and Nick grabbed him to keep him from sliding back out into the open. 

"They must have night scopes on those," Nick commented. 

"Crawford?" Cody asked. 

"My guess," Nick growled in reply. 

The sound of an approaching siren echoed along the pier, followed closely by the sound of squealing tires as their assailants fled. The three waited until the black and whites pulled up before they ventured out from their cover, each taking stock of the others. Nick was mad, blue eyes flashing. 

"Lighten up, Nick," Cody said, resting a hand on the man's shoulder, only to have him flinch away. 

"I'll lighten up when I have Crawford in my sights," Nick snapped angrily. 

"Only if you beat me to it," Cody countered, half in fun. 

"He's **mine** , Cody," Nick said, turning on his friend, finger tapping the blond's chest, eyes hard. "Don't get in my way." With that he spun and stalked into the darkness. 

"Hey, just a minute!" called one of the officers, who walked up in time to watch the exchange. 

"Let him go," Cody told the officer. "I'll make sure he gets down to the police station and gives a statement in the morning. Please?" 

The officer studied Cody for a moment, then nodded. "I suppose it'll be all right since I can get yours now. Now, what the hell happened?"   
  
  
  


Once they gave their statements, Cody and Murray walked back to the _Riptide_. Cody was quiet, lost in his own thoughts. 

_Nick, I don't understand why we can't seem to get it back together. I mean, I understand what you're going through, but you won't let me help, and I'm too much of a coward to force you._

_I want that bastard as much as you, maybe more. So why can't we do this together?_

_And why can't we say we love? It's not wrong._

_Are we so afraid that people wouldn't understand that we're going to hide our feelings from one another all our lives?_

_You mean more to me than anyone in my life. I'd die for you, man, but I can't say that to save my own life, and neither can you._

_So what the hell are we going to do?_   
  
  
  


The _Riptide_ was dark when Murray and Cody returned and they found Nick already asleep on top his bunk. He hadn't even bothered to change. 

Cody grabbed an Afghan from one of the storage closets and spread it over Nick while Murray whispered goodnight and headed to his room on tiptoes. 

With a sigh, Cody climbed out of his clothes and crawled quietly into his own bunk. He lay, enjoying the long-absent sound of Nick's steady breathing before finally slipping off to sleep himself.   
  
  
  


Crawford's laugh echoed in the background and Nick struggled against the ropes that held him suspended off the cold cement floor. His shoulders and arms burned from the strain of supporting his weight. 

Cody circled slowly around him, a happy grin on his face. In his hand he held a revolver, the hammer pulled back. "Only one bullet, Nick," he said, the smile spreading. "But which one is it?" 

He raised the gun, pointing it at Nick's abdomen and pulled the trigger. 

Nick jumped involuntarily. 

Cody laughed. "Guess that's not it. How about this one?" he said, pointing the weapon at Nick's chest, and pulled the trigger. . . .   
  
  
  


"Cody, no!" Nick screamed, sitting up. 

Cody lunged out of bed to see what was wrong, but Nick pushed off his bunk to meet him. 

Slamming Cody into the closet doors with a vicious force, Nick jarred the blond to the root of his toenails. Seeing the hate and panic in Nick's eyes, the blond detective froze. Nick's hands began to close on his throat, and he reached up, grabbing Nick's shoulders and choking out, "Nick, it's me, buddy. Come on, it's **me**." 

Cody watched as the expression of desperation was replaced by one of recognition, then shame. 

Nick released him like he was a hot iron and turned away. "Cody, I'm sorry, I--" he broke off, heading for the door. 

"Nick, wait!" Cody called after him. 

"Back off," Nick replied as he headed upstairs. "Just leave me alone!" 

Unable to decide if he should follow Nick, or try and stop him from going, Cody dropped back onto his bunk and sighed. "Damn," he breathed as Murray stepped into the room. 

"Are you all right?" he asked. 

Cody nodded. 

"Is Nick?" 

"I don't know, Murray. I just don't know."   
  
  
  


Nick walked alone on the deserted beach. _I could've killed him. My best friend, and I almost killed him! What's wrong with me?_

Eventually Nick found himself at the _Mimi_. Climbing into the cargo hold, he curled up and fell into a dreamless sleep.   
  
  
  


"The dreams might continue for some time," Dr. Poe told Cody over the phone. "Try to get him to talk about them, but do not press too hard, and Cody?" 

"Yes?" 

"Be careful," she added seriously. "Nick might not have the control you would normally expect. He is capable of hurting you." 

"I'll remember that," he told her, hanging up as Nick staggered in, looking tired and haggard. "You all right?" 

"Fine," as the only answer Nick was willing to give, and Cody let it suffice. 

Murray emerged from the galley, carrying donuts. Two cups of coffee sat on the table and Murray pushed his over to Nick, then headed to the coffee machine to fix some for himself. "I think I found a lead on Crawford," he stated. 

Two heads snapped up to stare at the thin detective, who smiled and pushed his glasses back up. 

"Well?" Cody prompted. 

"Well," Murray began, sitting down, "after Nick described those two men who captured him to Lieutenant Quinlan, I started thinking, and I thought I'd check and see if any cars like the one they were driving was returned to a rental agency on or about the day Nick disappeared. There were ten cars that matched the description Nick gave us, returned the day of his abduction," Murray paused, looking pleased. 

"What's the point, Murray?" Nick demanded, rubbing tired, red eyes. 

"One of the cars that was returned was paid for with a company account. MyLar Industries, and guess who's on the board of directors?" 

"Harrison Crawford," Cody said flatly. 

"Exactly," Murray said and laughed. "I traced it back and found the address given by the men who rented the car, but the address doesn't exist." 

"Figures," Nick muttered, slumping back into his seat. 

"What do we do now?" Murray asked, ready for action. 

"I suppose that we should--" Cody began but Nick cut him off. 

"We go pay a call on MyLar Industries." 

"I was going to say that," Cody said jokingly, and Murray giggled. 

Nick looked at his friend, hesitated, but then he smiled too.   
  
  
  


A twenty-story glass-fronted building rose above them. The three detectives stood just outside the entrance, dressed in business suits, Murray carrying a briefcase. 

"Are you sure you're up to this, Nick?" Cody asked, noting the fatigued look on his partner's face. 

"I'm fine," was the short-tempered reply. "I'll be better when we nail this bastard." 

"All right," Cody said, giving up trying to break through the wall Nick had built between them. "Let's get this over with." 

They entered the building, asked for directions to public relations, then headed for the elevator and the twelfth floor. The three strode into the office and converged on the secretary's desk. Murray sat his briefcase down with a thud, nearly spilling the coffee that sat on the woman's desk in an oriental mug. 

"May I help you?" the young lady sitting behind the desk asked, clearly annoyed. 

"I'm Mister Smith, with the law firm of Smith, Smith and Smith," Murray told her. When she registered no response, he continued, "These are my associates, Mister Smith. . ." 

Cody nodded. 

". . . And Mister Smith." 

Nick stared at her coldly. 

"We've been retained by the King Harbor Car Rental Service to obtain a reimbursement for damages two MyLar employees inflicted on a vehicle they rented, using their company accounts." 

"I see," was the uninterested reply. 

"If we are not given full cooperation here today, we'll begin proceedings against this company," Nick added, his voice like ice. 

"You'll need to speak to Mister Dallaport," the secretary said. "Let me see if he's left for lunch yet." 

She reached for the phone on her desk and dialed. He was in, and once she repeated Murray's story they were on their way up to the eighteenth floor. Mr. Dallaport did not looked pleased to see them, but he invited them into his office and had them sit. 

"Now," he said, "what's the problem, gentlemen?" 

"The problem, Mister Dallaport," Cody said in a friendly yet business-like tone, "is that two MyLar employees rented a car from our client and then returned it without reporting the damage they inflicted on the vehicle." 

"And just who are we talking about here?" asked Dallaport, leaning back in his chair. 

"That's what **we'd** like to know," Murray told him, taking over from Cody. "The two men used their employee IDs and a company account." 

"We'll need their names for the reports, and to press charges, if that becomes necessary," Nick added. 

Murray handed Dallaport a piece of paper with the ID numbers and account numbers penciled on it, then settled back into his chair, pleased with their performance thus far. 

Dallaport scanned the numbers, then pressed the intercom button on his desk saying, "Candy, pull the files on employee's 80972 and 64131 and bring them in." 

"Yes, sir," came the crisp response.   
  
  
  


Crawford swung around in his padded chair to face the speaker box over which the three detectives' voices drifted. He smiled. _So, you've made some connections. Well, Cody, my game has just begun, and I never lose_.   
  
  
  


There was a knock on the door, immediately followed by the entrance of a beautiful young woman. She proceeded past the three appreciative detectives and handed two folders to Dallaport. "Here are the files you requested, sir," she said, with an air of polished efficiency. 

"Thank you, Candy," he told her and was rewarded with a perfect smile. 

Candy then turned on her heel and exited, never once looking at any of the three detectives. 

Dallaport flipped the files open. "Charles Green and Robert McNeely," he said aloud. "They're consultants on some of our marine development sites." 

Cody wrote the names down in a small notebook, saying, "And can you tell us where we might locate Misters Green and McNeely so we can take their statements?" 

"I'm afraid that they're both out of the country at this time, on business," Dallaport said, closing the files. 

"How convenient," Nick said sarcastically. 

"If you'll just submit a report detailing the damages to my secretary, I'll see that the accounting office reimburses your client." 

"Well, thank you for your cooperation," Murray said standing. "We'll do just that."   
  
  
  


Crawford waited until Dallaport sat down across from him before he spoke. "Charming little performance, don't you agree?" 

"Do you think they bought my story that Green and McNeely are out of the country?" 

"Unlikely," Crawford answered. "However, I've already set the wheels in motion to eliminate the problem of the Riptide Detective Agency." He looked at Dallaport, his eyes shining. "Soon, Mister Ryder will kill Mister Allen, and I can take my vacation to Greece and listen to what the Grand Jury decides in the comfort of a Roman villa."   
  
  
  


The three detectives exited the elevator in step. From the corner of his eye Cody saw Nick stiffen, then bolt toward a closing door marked "Parking Garage," and followed him. 

"Hey, guys!" Murray called as he watched the two disappear. 

Nick had caught a man and was using the lapels of his designer business suit to toss him roughly onto the hood of a nearby car. "All right, pal," the dark-haired detective growled ominously. "Where's your friend with the handshake?" 

Cody reached them in time to hear the man reply, "I don't know what the hell you're talking about!" 

"Nick," Cody said, "maybe--" 

"This is one of the scumbags who popped me at the _Mimi_ ," he said angrily. "I wouldn't forget those faces, all right?" 

"All right," Cody said reassuringly. "But we're getting a little attention here." He nodded in the direction of an elevator and the small group that had just exited and now stood gaping at them. 

A security guard brushed past Murray, who stood in the door frame and stalked toward them. 

Nick jerked the man off the hood of the car and haphazardly brushed him off as the guard joined them. 

"Some trouble here, Mister Green?" 

"No, Hank," the man said, glancing at Nick. "Just a little case of mistaken identity."   
  
  
  


Hands. They fumbled with the prescription bottle, pouring the contents into a black-gloved palm. From there the pills were placed into the jacket pocket of Nick's "friend with the handshake." From the same pocket McNeely removed an envelope and poured the contents into the empty prescription bottle. Replacing the bottle carefully in exactly the same location he had taken it from, he left the _Riptide_ as he had come, unnoticed.   
  
  
  


"Nick, are you all right?" Murray asked as they descended into the _Riptide's_ main salon. 

"Yeah," Nick said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm just beat. I think I'll call it a day." 

"Don't forget these," Cody reminded, tossing his partner the prescription bottle from off the table. 

"Thanks," the dark-haired man grumbled as he turned and headed below. Reaching his bunk, he sat down and looked at the bottle. He contemplated skipping the medication, but forced himself into the bathroom and took two of the capsules before returning to his bunk and climbed in. He fell into a restless sleep.   
  
  
  


Cody entered the stateroom and quietly checked on Nick, who appeared to be sleeping. But he was also tossing continually and his breathing was erratic. 

_I hope the worst of your nightmares are over, buddy. I still have them every once in a while._

_I wonder if you know that. I've wanted to wake you up and tell you, but I can't._

_I hope you can wake me up, if you need to. Maybe it'd help me get over them too_. 

As Cody stood, lost in his own thoughts, Nick twisted sharply and moaned. 

Stepping closer, Cody could see the film of sweat that covered Nick's bare chest and reaching out, he rested a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder, only to find it cold and clammy. A look of concern crossed his face as Nick came up off the bed with a strangled scream. 

Cody caught his friend in both arms and eased Nick back down onto his bunk, where he sat, staring into space, his entire body shaking furiously. 

Hearing Nick choke back a sob, Cody sat down alongside him, and asked quietly, "Hey, are you all right?" 

Nick did not look at Cody, but shook his head, then broke into open tears. Confused, Cody let his instincts take over and gathered the trembling man into his arms, pulling Nick's head into his shoulder, rocking him gently as if he were a child. The tears continued and Cody rested his chin on Nick's head, whispering whatever words of comfort he could think of. Nick encircled his friend with his arms, clinging to him for strength and reassurance. 

After a time Nick managed to choke out, "I was seein' it all again . . . Back when I thought I'd killed you." 

"Easy," Cody told him. "It'll get better." 

"Then I saw you, and you were with Crawford, you--" He stopped, unable to say that it was Cody who tortured him in his dreams. 

"Talk to me, Nick, please," Cody urged. "Maybe it'll help. And at least we can face it together." 

Nick took a deep breath and pulled away from Cody, who remained on the bunk, but respected the space Nick placed between them. "When Crawford had me," he began hesitantly, "all I could think about was what you and Murray must be going through. I knew I had to be strong; I had to live or I'd let you guys down. I remembered what had happened before, with you, and--" He trailed off and Cody nodded his understanding. 

"He kept me pretty drugged up most of the time, and then they brought in this guy. He looked just like you. He was . . . very good." 

Cody looked away and shuddered, well aware of the kind of "talented" men Crawford could find. 

"He even talked like you . . . knew all the right things to say, you know? I guess a part of me finally believed it **was** you, and I hate myself for that, man, but I just couldn't help it." 

"It wasn't your fault, Nick," Cody said, trying to convince him. "It was the drugs. And Crawford's an expert at that sort of thing." 

"I know all that, but-- The weird thing is, part of me kept waiting for you to help me, waiting for you to come and get me out," Nick added, his voice breaking. 

"We **tried** to find you. We searched **every** **day** ," Cody told him, feeling like he'd let Nick down. 

Blue eyes locked on blue. "I believe you. I know what it's like from that side too. Been there, did that, and it was hell. I just want these damn dreams to **stop**!" 

Cody cleared his throat, willing the tightness to lessen enough so he could talk. "I don't know if they'll ever go away completely, Nick. They're like the ones about 'Nam we get every so often. I don't think you can go through something like that without a few scars to show for it," Cody told him, reaching out to rest a hand on Nick's shoulder. "Every once in a while I dream that I'm back there . . . with Crawford, I mean." 

"I know," Nick whispered, looking up at his best friend with tears shining in his eyes. Softly he whispered, "Hold me, please? I'm just so damned scared." 

And Cody did.   
  
  
  


The next morning Cody watched as Nick stumbled up the stairs, his eyes unfocused and slightly glazed. He stood and helped the dark-haired man to the table, saying, "Here, sit down before you fall down, will ya?" 

"Nick, you look terrible," Murray said as he came up from the galley with a glass of juice and Nick's prescription bottle. 

"Good morning to you, too, Murray," was the mumbled reply. 

"He's right, Nick," Cody confirmed, winning a sour look form his partner for the effort. "I think we ought to call Doctor Poe." 

"Come on, you guys," Nick protested, his anger mounting for no apparent reason. "She'll wanna see me, and I'll be fine after I've had some coffee." 

"I really think we should call," Murray pressed. 

Nick's head came up sharply and he exploded, "I said no, damnit! And I mean it. I don't need the two of you nurse-maiding me!" 

"Hey, we're just trying to help, that's all," Cody said in a consoling tone that only made Nick more angry as he placed one of the capsules on his tongue, washing it down with a sip of the orange juice. 

"Well, I'm not askin' for it, so just lay off, will ya?" 

Cody reached out and gently rested a hand on Nick's arm, squeezing slightly. "All right, but we're worried about you. We want to help, that's all." 

"Just leave me alone," Nick snapped, jerking away from Cody and standing. "I don't need your help." 

Cody watched Nick leave with an expression of utter disbelief. _How could you say that after everything we talked about last night?_ _You opened up to me and asked for my help then. So what the hell happened?_   
  
  
  


Nick walked along the beach, ignoring the sunbathers, surfers, and volleyball players that crowded the sand. He could feel the fear and anger building inside him, but he had no clue where it was coming from. 

_You really blew it this time, Ryder_ , he scolded himself. _You're going to push just a little too far one of these days and you're going to lose the best friend you'll ever have_. 

Forcing himself to turn around, he plodded back toward the _Riptide_ , determined to apologize, and growing madder with each step.   
  
  
  


They watched Nick's hasty departure with undisguised pleasure. "I couldn't have planned this any better myself," Crawford said happily. 

Once Nick was out of sight, he and the blond who resembled Cody headed for the _Riptide_. Both men wore dark glasses and business suits.   
  
  
  


"Someone's coming," Murray said to a sullen and withdrawn Cody. 

"Terrific," the blond replied without looking up. 

"They look like cops, or something," Murray added. 

That interested Cody enough to prompt him to glance out the window. 

Crawford stood slightly behind the blond man, effectively hiding himself from view. The blond hailed the boat with a curt wave. 

"I hope this isn't a case," Cody mumbled as he rose and headed outside, Murray right behind him. 

"We'd like to come aboard and ask you a few questions," the blond called. 

Cody sighed. _Must be cops_. "Come aboard," he directed. 

"What do you think?" Murray whispered. 

"I don't know," Cody said, but before he could continue, Crawford reached up and removed his glasses. Seeing the man who had very nearly tortured him to death, Cody froze. 

The pause gave the blond man time to remove the revolver he carried in his shoulder holster, aiming it at the two detectives. 

"Inside," he directed, jerking the gun in that direction. 

Hate built in Cody's eyes, and the man holding the gun smiled. He removed his glasses as well, and Cody found himself staring into his own face. 

"Passable, don't you agree?" Crawford asked with a chuckle. 

Cody refused to answer, laying a hand on Murray's shoulder and directing him inside. He made sure that he kept himself between his friend and Crawford. 

Once in the main salon, the blond directed them to sit, then positioned himself so he could keep a watchful eye on them. Crawford walked calmly about, fingering items, smiling to himself. Cody finally broke the silence. "So, what's the plan, Crawford?" 

"Yeah," Murray chimed in, "are you going to take us out to sea and dump us or something?" 

Crawford chuckled. "Nothing so unimaginative, Doctor Bozinsky," he said, using Murray's title as a slap. 

"Just what **do** you have in mind?" Cody asked. 

"Now, Cody," Crawford said, moving over to stand in front of them, "you know I'm not one who gives up the element of surprise easily. But I will tell you this much; as soon as Nick returns the games will begin." 

Cody shuddered imperceptibly, his imagination all too eager to interpret what the "games" might be.   
  
  
  


Nick paced along the breakwater, watching the _Riptide_ and trying to suppress the rage that boiled inside of him. 

_I could hate him so easy_ , he realized. _I don't get it. Cody's my best friend, how can I hate him? What the hell's wrong with me?_

He took a deep breath and started for the boat. _Maybe Crawford scrambled my brains more than I thought. I'll apologize to Cody, then I'll call Doctor Poe. I'm not goin' to let some psycho like Crawford destroy what I felt-- **feel** for Cody. He means more to me than a brother ever could_.   
  
  
  


Nick was still trying to talk himself out of the confused emotions that played in his mind when he boarded the _Riptide_ several minutes later. He headed below. 

Cody sat at the small table, wearing a concerned, almost panicked expression. 

"Cody--" Nick began, then heard the familiar sound of an automatic being cocked. 

"Please, come in, Nick," Crawford said softly, stepping up from the stairs that led below. "It's been far too long since I had the **pleasure** of your company." 

Nick froze, unable to move. He felt his knees begin to shake and it became difficult to breath. The hate and anger that had earlier been directed at Cody now shifted focus. _Crawford, you bastard_. 

Nick forced himself through the side door, his muscles knotting with barely-held-in-check rage. "Where's Murray?" he asked Cody. 

"Down below," Cody told him, adding, "He's all right." 

"You?" Nick asked as he sat down at the table. 

"So far," Cody acknowledged. 

"Oh, isn't this touching?" Crawford drawled sarcastically, hiding his concern that the pair were doing so well. "Such a tender display of concern for one another." 

"Some of us still have feelings, Crawford," Cody snapped. 

"Only the weak give in to such a vice," he countered. "The strong live for themselves." 

Cody opened his mouth to reply, but Nick cut him off. "Don't bother, he's dead. Someone's just forgot to bury him." 

Crawford ignored the remark, reaching inside his coat pocket and removing the prescription bottle that he had picked up earlier. Tossing it to Nick, he said, "Time for your medication, Mister Ryder. Take two, won't you?" 

Nick caught the bottle and looked up, confused. 

"If you don't comply, I'll have my associate begin exercising his considerable talents on Doctor Bozinsky." 

Nick looked from the bottle to Crawford, and back. He removed the cap, tapping two of the capsules into his hand. 

"Nick?" Cody asked. 

"What else can I do? You know what they could do to Murray." 

Cody's gaze fell away. "I know." 

Nick took the pills with the juice that still sat in his glass from earlier. As the drugs hit his system, he felt his anger rise again, his control beginning to slip. "They switched my medication," he half-growled. 

"Quite correct," Crawford confirmed. "I needed to start reintroducing the drugs into your system so that my little game would be a success." 

Nick lunged up from the table, but Cody grabbed him, holding him back. 

Crawford raised the gun he held, pressing it against Nick's chest. "You really must work on controlling that temper of yours, Nick," he said with a smile. "Lawrence," he called down to the blond, "please show Mister Ryder why he should behave." 

The sound of a single scream echoed from below. 

Nick allowed Cody to pull him back into his seat. _What did I do to Murray?_ he thought. _I have to stay in control. I have to fight this or I'll get us all killed_. 

Crawford motioned to Cody. "Cast off and take us out to this location," he directed, handing the blond detective a small piece of paper. 

Cody hesitated for a moment, then moved to comply. 

Crawford made himself comfortable across the room from Nick, watching delightedly as the drugs began their work.   
  
  
  


Sights, sounds, and feelings, all flooded back. Time seemed to dissolve and Nick found himself back in the small cement room where pain was his only reality. And pain came in so many forms -- some expected, some unimaginable. 

And the man responsible for most of it looked just like his best friend. . . .   
  
  
  


Cody dropped anchor two hours later at the location Crawford had given him. _Isolated_ , he thought. _No one's going to stumble across us here, that's for sure_. 

He headed back down to the stairs, his mind searching for some plan, some way out. When he reentered the salon he found Nick curled up in a fetal position on the floor, his eyes shut and his arms locked protectively across his chest. 

Without a glance at Crawford, Cody moved to Nick's side, kneeling down next to him. Reaching out, he gently brushed the back of his hand against Nick's cheek, watching the man's dark eyelashes flutter against his pale cheeks as Nick flinched away in reply. 

"What the hell did you do to him?" Cody demanded. 

"Nothing," Crawford replied calmly, an amused expression on his face. "Not a thing. The drugs are doing all my work for me. He's back now, back when I had him. Back to when **you** tortured him." 

Cody's eyes blazed with raw hatred, but Crawford's automatic, pointed at his chest, kept him from lacing his fingers around the man's neck and squeezing the life from him. Still, it made a pleasant picture. 

"Take him outside," Crawford commanded, standing. 

Cody grabbed Nick under the arms and finally managed to get him to his feet. "Come on, Nick," he encouraged in a whisper. "Hang in there, buddy." 

Nick didn't seem to hear the words, but he did manage to make it out onto the deck, bright with sunlight reflecting off the calm Pacific. He squinted and growled deep in his throat. 

Lawrence followed Crawford out, pushing Murray roughly onto the deck to join his friends. He followed, grabbing the thin computer whiz and forcing him onto one of the deckseats. Cody watched, unable to help, afraid that it he release his grip on Nick he'd fall. Lawrence sat down beside Murray, then fished in his pocket. 

"Hit him," Crawford directed Cody coldly, pointing at Nick. 

"No," Cody said flatly. 

"Larry," Crawford said with a deadly tone. 

The blond raised an electronic prod so Cody could see it. Murray cringed away, but his expression was still defiant. 

Nick blinked several times, the gist of what was happening beginning to sink in. He stared intently at the man who sat with Murray, that part of his mind that had walled itself up during the ordeal beginning to emerge. "Do it," he hissed at Cody. "It'll kill Murray." 

"I can't," Cody snarled, more to Crawford than to Nick. 

"Do it now, Cody, or I'll turn Larry lose on the little doctor," Crawford threatened. 

"Come on," Nick said through clenched teeth. 

Cody yelled in frustration, but he spun Nick around and planted a fist in his best friend's abdomen. The blow lacked his usual intensity, but Nick went down onto one knee, sucking in air to refill his nearly depleted lungs. 

Part of Nick's mind went blind with hatred and anger, while another part knew that it was the man sitting next to Murray that he should hate. The drugs made the former easier to believe, but he clung to the latter and the wall began to dissolve. . . .   
  
  
  


Crawford watched Nick's face and saw the realizations as they occurred. He was losing this round. Nick's faith in Cody was too strong. He hissed softly to himself. Nick **had** to believe that it was Cody who'd tortured him. Nick had to kill Allen. And Crawford had to watch. 

Reaching into the inner pocket of his sports coat, Crawford removed a small blue case and tossed it to Cody. "Open it." 

Cody did, finding a full syringe. 

"Give it to him," Crawford stated evenly. 

"Why don't you just kill me?" Cody yelled angrily. "That's what this is all about, isn't it?" 

"Give him the injection or I'll kill him." 

"Do it, Cody," Nick whispered. 

Cody complied. 

_Man, I hope I don't lose it or we're all dead, right here. Hang in there, you guys. Please, Lord, don't let me fail. Don't let me be weak_. 

Nick felt the drugs surge through his bloodstream like a wave of molten fire. The fog thickened in his mind. He felt the blows begin to fall.   
  
  
  


Cody threw a half-pulled punch, catching Nick on the jaw and snapping his head back. Nick staggered back, disoriented by the drugs. Larry rose and stepped in, delivering a vicious blow to Nick's ribs, dropping the detective onto the deck. 

Cody to a step back, looking for an opening to jump Larry and get the revolver he held. As he moved in on Larry, the man brought up the electronic prod in his other hand and shoved it against the blond's shoulder. The resulting shock brought a cry of pain from Cody. 

Nick rose up off the deck and charged. 

Larry thrust Cody into the path of the oncoming detective, then touched the prod to Nick's neck as he went by. 

Nick wrapped his arms around Cody, slamming him into the wooden deck with a crash. Cody tried to push Nick off, but the pain and the drugs made the dark-haired man too strong for him. Nick scrambled to straddle Cody's thighs, one palm under the blond's chin, forcing his head back. He raised the other hand to crush Cody's face, but hesitated. 

"Nick, please!" Cody called out the best he could. "It's me, damnit, it's me!" 

_No!_ screamed a part of Nick's mind as his hand started down with brutal force. The fog cleared enough for Nick to pull the blow, his fist pounding into the deck. "No!" 

"You know me, Nick," Cody said as his partner released his chin. "Stay with me, Nick, please." 

Larry stepped in, applying the prod to Nick's back. 

The detective scrambled off of his best friend, crouching on his hands and knees. 

"Do you hate me, Nick?" Larry asked using Cody's voice. "Do ya, buddy?" 

"Kill you!" Nick screamed as he pushed up off the deck. 

Larry wasn't the only one surprised at the power and speed of the attack. Slipping one arm around the man's neck, Nick pinned his tormentor in a choke hold. Heaving with the added strength generated by the drugs, he lifted Larry up and slammed him into the deck. The sound of the man's neck breaking echoed across the water. 

Crawford leveled the gun on Cody, screaming harshly, "Stop! Nick, now!" 

Nick froze, his chest heaving as he stood, hands on his thighs, above the still form of Larry. "You're gonna die, Crawford," he spat. "You can't stop it now. You might get one of us, but the other two will kill ya. You're gonna die." 

"Cody, tie him up, now!" Crawford snapped, worry evident in his voice. 

Cody made no move toward Nick, who stared intently at the fallen man's gun. Blue eyes flickered from the weapon to his partner. 

The instant that Cody saw Nick's eyes come up, he knew that he was going for the gun. 

"Nick's right, Crawford!" Cody yelled, a predatory edge to his voice. "You're going to die!" 

Crawford swung toward Cody. 

"I said, tie him!" he barked, and, from the corner of his eye, saw Nick dive for the revolver. 

Crawford pivoted, taking aim as Nick's hand closed on the butt of the gun, thumb pulling the hammer back. 

"Nick!" Cody yelled as he saw Crawford pull the trigger. 

Nick rolled, the bullet tracing a furrow along his side as he did. Lying on his back Nick raised the revolver as Crawford fired a second round, this one hitting the detective in the upper shoulder. The impact forced Nick back into the deck as he pulled the trigger. 

Two rounds caught Crawford, punching him over the side of the _Riptide_. 

Nick continued firing at the spot where Crawford had stood, the gun finally responding with a _click_ as the hammer fell on an empty chamber. 

Cody moved quickly to Nick's side, Murray heading to the rail, peering over. 

"I don't see him," Murray called back to the pair. 

Cody maneuvered Nick up, leaning him against his thighs, his head resting on the blond man's shoulder. Checking Nick's wounds, Cody called to Murray, "Never mind! Get me some towels, I've got to stop this bleeding!" 

Nick stared out at the deep blue of the Pacific, his eyes glassy. "I knew, Cody." 

"Knew what, buddy?" Cody asked as he checked Nick's side. The bullet had traced a quarter-inch furrow along one rib. It was bleeding profusely, but didn't appear dangerous. 

"I knew it couldn't be you who was doing that to me," Nick explained, his voice thick and slurred as shock took its toll. 

"Hurry up, Murray!" Cody yelled over his shoulder, then turned back to Nick. "I would've died before I'd do this to you." 

"I know," Nick said softly, a happy smile on his lips. "It was . . . the drugs . . . but something in me knew. . ." He trailed off, then shook his head as if to clear it. "Really sleepy," he said barely audibly. 

"No, don't sleep," Cody said, shaking Nick slightly. "Come on, stay with me here. Talk to me, Nick." He could feel his friend begin to relax against him. "Come on, Murray!" 

The computer whiz scurried up from below with a handful of towels. Cody grabbed one, pressing it against the shoulder wound. The pressure drew a moan from Nick, and he tried to pull away from the administerings. 

"Easy," Cody told him. "I've got to stop this bleeding." 

"Crawford?" Nick asked airily. 

"I think you got him, Nick," Murray said, stooping over his friend. 

"Good, good," Nick said, his voice noticeably weaker. 

Murray could see the concern in Cody's eyes as he instructed, "Head us back to King Harbor. Call the Harbor Patrol and have an ambulance waiting. I'm going to take him below." 

"All right," Murray said, beginning to move away. 

"And, Murray," Cody added. 

"Yes, Cody?" 

"Push her as fast as she'll go." 

"I will."   
  
  
  


Cody supported Nick with one arm around his waist, the other holding Nick's good arm over his shoulder. "Come on, Nick," Cody urged. "Can you make it to the bunks?" 

Nick nodded. 

The pair moved off slowly as Murray hoisted the anchor. When they reached the bunks, Cody helped ease Nick down. The dark-haired man lay very still, his eyes closed. 

"Nick, can you hear me?" 

Blue eyes fluttered opened slowly, but remained unfocused. "Drugs," he slurred. 

"I think so," Cody said. "You're going into shock." Grabbing the blankets from his own bunk, Cody covered his partner, mumbling as he did, "Now how does that medic saying from 'Nam go? Face red, raise the head, face pale, raise the tail?" 

Nick smiled weakly, and nodded. 

Cody grabbed his pillow, then gently lifted Nick, sliding it in behind him to lift him to a half-seated position. 

Nick watched, his eyes speaking silent volumes. Finally, he swallowed and whispered, "I thought I was gonna kill you." 

"Me, too, but you saved our lives." 

Nick shook his head. "Almost killed you, couldn't stop myself. . ." 

"Don't blame yourself. It was the drugs, that's all. When it came right down to it you couldn't hurt me." Cody gently took Nick's hand in his own. "In fact, I think you broke your hand." 

"I should've known sooner. . . . was afraid. . . . shouldn't've been so weak." 

"Nick, you weren't weak." 

"I kept reminding you--" 

"Nick, you didn't remind me about what Crawford did to me. I was just afraid that what he did to you would, I don't know, that it would change us." 

Nick nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Was afraid of you . . . a little while. Until they shot at us. That was like old times. . . Just feel like I let you down." 

"I felt like I'd let **you** down," Cody replied, changing the towel pressed against the man's shoulder as the first became soaked with blood. He held the second down with a firm pressure, saying a silent prayer that the bleeding would stop soon. 

"Why are we so afraid to say what we feel?" Nick asked softly. 

"I don't know," Cody said, tears tracing down his cheeks. "But we are. And then something happens and we tear ourselves up, wondering if the other knows how we really feel." 

Nick's hand closed as far as it could on Cody's. "You're like a brother to me, Cody, like blood, closer." 

"So are you," the blond whispered back. 

Nick coughed softly. "This ain't good, is it?" 

Cody shook his head, but didn't trust his voice not to break if he tried to speak. 

"If I don't make it--" 

"Don't say that," Cody cut him off. "You are going to make it. We've been through too much for me to lose you now." 

Nick smiled thinly. "That's what I kept telling myself when Crawford had me. I knew I'd let you guys down if I gave up. . . . Let me say this. It's not easy . . . to tell your best friend how much he means. I love you, Cody. I know that might sound strange, but--" He broke off as his stomach cramped and he moaned. 

Cody circled Nick with his free arm, holding him close. "No, not strange, Nick," he said. "I love you, too. You're the closest family I've got, besides my mom. You mean more to me than a brother, or a friend. I don't try to understand it anymore, and I don't think I could stand to live without it." He paused. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I understand what you went through, and I feel the same way." 

Nick tried to speak, but he couldn't find the strength. He settled for nodding slightly. Closing his eyes, he felt Cody's arms tighten around him. He rested his head against the blond man's shoulder as Cody said, "Hang tough, partner, we're almost home."   
  
  
  


Dr. Poe smiled down at Nick. "You again?" 

Nick smiled. _I'm alive. . ._

"Some people never learn, or is it the fine food and accommodations that keeps bringing you back?" 

"The company," he whispered, his voice still slightly slurred. 

She chuckled. "I have two very worried men cluttering up my waiting room; do you think you can take them off my hands for a few minutes?" 

He nodded. 

A few moments later, he heard Murray deluging the doctor with questions as they entered the room. Seeing Nick with various tubes and wires attached to his body silenced him, however. 

"It's not as bad as it looks," Nick managed, his voice dry and rough. 

"Not for someone who spent four hours in surgery," Dr. Poe said, patting Murray's shoulder. "Do not worry. He is out of danger and we will move him out of ICU later today." 

"That's good news," Cody said, moving to stand next to the bed. He reached out and squeezed Nick's shoulder. "See, I told you that you'd make it." 

"Thanks," Nick whispered, feeling the tears of relief and love escape from the corners of his eyes. 

"Anytime, buddy," Cody replied, "but not too soon, okay?" 

Nick nodded his agreement as Murray moved to stand on the other side of the bed. Nick looked from one man to the other. "What's wrong with you two?" he asked. "You look like I died." 

Cody smiled thinly, then explained, "It's Crawford. The Coast Guard didn't find a body. They think he might've survived." 

"You got him good, Nick," Murray said. "Maybe they just missed him." 

"If he's not dead, he'll be back," Nick breathed. 

"All right," Dr. Poe said in an authoritative tone, "let's let Nick rest. I will let you see him again later today, once he is moved." 

"Hang in there," Cody said softly. "We'll see you later." 

Nick nodded, and smiled. "Cody?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Don't forget the pizza." 

"You got it, buddy," Cody promised.   
  
  
  
  
  


_Call on me, Brother, if you need a hand._

_We all need somebody to lean on._

_I just might have a problem that you'd understand._

_We all need somebody to lean on._

_Lean on me, when you're not strong,_

_And I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on._

_Boy, it won't be long, 'til I'm gonna need somebody to lean on._

_Lean on me, when you're not strong,_

_And I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on. . ._


End file.
